Master and Apprentice
by Thunderhowl
Summary: Because villains were people once, and every student has a master, and every son has a father. Writtin for wildskysong.


**Hey, folks!! How's it going? This is a little (five page) drabble that I wrote in response to wildskysong's rec for a child!Galbatorix. She wrote "The Choices We Make" for me, as a Vietnam!Roran rec, so I had to write this is response!!**

**Well, it's sort of a child!Galby fic, but it spans his training as a Rider and his fall to uber- evilness. It took me a bit, so be gentle.**

**Warnings- Overuse of linebreaks, as well as mass genocide (duh, it's Galby).**

**Disclaimer- If I owned Eragon, there would be less talking, more Eragon/Arya. Needless to say, I don't own it. **

* * *

The master looks at the apprentice, the smallness, the filth on his clothes, the young dragonling coiled on his shoulders. A scruffy child, from the outskirts of a nameless village, with too many siblings and not enough to eat. But his eyes are bright, burning with thirst. _Knowledge_, his eyes say, _power._

"Are you my new pupil?"

A jerky nod, a sheepish bow.

The master sighs. "Come on in then." And it begins.

* * *

The apprentice looks at the master, the neatness, the trimmed beard, the mighty bronze dragon at his back. A rich man, born in wealth, and power. From Teirm, maybe, with far too much money and so little compassion. But his face was kind, his eyes soft. _Trust me, _his eyes say, _I will teach you._

"Are you my new pupil?"

A jerky nod, unsure, and a slight bow.

The apprentice trembles, feeling his dragon's weight on his shoulder.

"Come in then."

* * *

He breathes again.

"Master, what is magic?"

"Who's to say, my boy? That depends entirely on the wielder."

"What's magic to you, Master Verloran?"

"Knowledge. And what is it to you?"

"_Power_".

* * *

The master watches the apprentice, a well- groomed young man, deft with the blade, deft with the mind. He has grown from an unsure child into a confident man, the pride of the Dragon Riders. One day he will be great, the greatest, perhaps. Even Vrael takes an interest in him, the lead Rider.

"Come along, my boy, it is time to meet with the Elders!"

The apprentice stops in his practice and smiles, calling to his Jarnunvosk. He has not met the Elders before, and he is eager.

The master does not tell his student why he has been summoned, but it fills his heart with pride.

Before the Elders, the apprentice bows. "I am ready for the mission you have set to me, great Elders."

* * *

The apprentice watches the master, an older man, lined with age. Some of those lines he has put there himself, the apprentice knows, in his adventures. He has become a father, in a sense, less grumpy, more friendly. He is the greatest teacher, and the apprentice is eager to impress him, weaving his blade through the air in a complicated pattern.

"Come along, my boy, it is time to meet with the Elders!" The master calls.

The apprentice smiles and lopes to his master, determined to prove himself. His dragon ambles beside them as they walk to the Elders.

The master does not tell his apprentice why he has been summoned, but the youth does not mind. He loves his master, and is ready to please.

He bows before the Elders, ready for his first mission alone. He will make his master proud. "I am ready for the mission you have set to me, great Elders."

* * *

"What do you see, my student?"

"Just the stars, Master Verloran."

"Just the stars? My boy, stars are a great source of wonder. They burn so brightly, casting light into the darkness of light."

"Really?"

"Really. You must never forget the stars, my apprentice. They will keep your heart warm, even when all seems lost."

* * *

The master gazes at the apprentice, tears glittering in his eyes. The boy is grown now, a full Rider in his own right. Great things will come from him, the master knows. The boy- man, really- is too strong and brilliant to not do great things.

"Sleep well, my apprentice."

The master kisses the brow of his student and leaves, knowing it is the last night that his student will spend here. He is not an apprentice anymore.

He looks back at the room one last time, a shadow stirring in his heart, feeling the power and potential the student has, and then turns away. The boy is strong, and can master his arrogance. He must, because he is his master's pupil.

* * *

The apprentice feels his master and smiles in his half- sleep. He is a full Rider now, but he still feels for his maser, who raised him, a street rat.

"Sleep well, my apprentice."

The apprentice feels his master's kiss on his brow and resists the urge to cry, knowing in his heart that the kiss to his brow was his master letting go, and that he will never sleep here again.

He hears his master leave, and smiles again. For his master, he will do great things.

* * *

"I'm leaving today."

"You be careful, my boy. The Spine is dangerous, even for a group of Riders."

"We'll be fine, Master Verloran. Our powers will protect us."

"Don't forget the stars, my boy. They will guide you home."

* * *

The master looks down at the apprentice, sorrow ravaging his heart. The boy is collapsed on his floor, wretched, weeping. His Jarnunvosk is dead, and the Elders refused to grant the apprentice a new dragon. The master feels his student's pain.

"Young one, I am sorry."

The master pauses, aware of the terrible pain that is to follow his next words. He lost his apprentice for long, long months, and dreaded the worst. He was overjoyed when they found him, battered, hurt, dragonless, but _alive_. He was aware that he would lose him again, perhaps for forever.

"I cannot get you a new dragon. The Elders have forbidden it."

With a cry of true agony, the apprentice jerks away, his face crazed with grief.

"_You betrayed me!" _

The master can only watch in quiet pain as his student flees, and the fact that he has lost the closest thing he ever had to a son.

* * *

The apprentice looks at the master from the floor, begging, pleading, desperately praying that his oldest friend will come to his aid. The Riders owed him a new dragon, it was their duty, their _fault _that Jarnunvosk was dead. The Elders forbade it, sent him away, crushed him.

"Young one, I am sorry."

The apprentice tenses, looks up, horrified. Not his master, his teacher, his friend. He would do this, wouldn't prolong the pain.

"I cannot get you a new dragon. The Elders have forbidden it."

An animal cry tears from the apprentices lips, agony blossoming in his chest anew, bleeding inside his soul.

"_You betrayed me!"_

And then he is gone, stumbling away, cursing, weeping, raching for the dark magic he had learned from a Shade. The apprentice can only howl in terrible pain, because he has just lost his father.

* * *

"I have learned much since we last met, Master."

"I'm sure you have, my boy."

"_Don't _call me that! I ceased to be yours the moment you betrayed me."

"I see you did not listen, anyway."

"This is Shruikan. He will be your doom."

"So be it, my fallen apprentice."

* * *

The master sees the apprentice, astride his stolen dragon, blade out, cursed words on his lips. The blood of hundreds in on his hands, but all the master can see is the scruffy street child he took under his wing, nurtured, and watched grow.

A swipe of the black sword gashes open his chest, but the master does not care. His dragon groans in agony, whimpering, pleading for his Rider to free him so that he can fight, but the master will not release him. His fallen apprentice comes at him again, and he wonders if he should reach for his sword. He draws it and parries, raising the blade to slice the arm that is not quick enough. Then he sees his student's face, and stops.

Others see a monster, a terrible villain that must be stopped. The master can see it too, the beautiful, brilliant power turned into something wicked and evil. He should strike, should avenge his fallen brothers and sisters. He cannot bear to see what his apprentice has become. The master knows what he must do. He prepares himself, magic on his lips, an ancient secret, ready to crush the murderer in front of him. Dark eyes widen--

And the master stops. He sees his son, the child he raised, and knows, deep in his soul, that he cannot kill his apprentice. The master dies, the father is born. He throws away his sword.

"Fool." The son snarls. "Die."

A back blade pierces the father's chest and he crumbles, his dragon roaring and screaming in pain. His lays dying, one last sentence forming on his bleeding lips.

"_Don't forget the stars, my son."_

The father dies.

* * *

The apprentice sees the master, standing alone on the ground, his dragon pinned in place by magic. His lip raises and his stolen dragon growls. The fool. There would be no talking out this, not after the betrayal, after the pain. He looks upon his teacher and only sees the betrayer, not his friend.

He lashes out, striking the master in the chest, crimson blood on his blade. The dragon groans in pain and the apprentice smiles wickedly. He lashes out again, only to be blocked. Another blade, the bronze sword he knew so well from his youth, threatens his arm. He pauses, wondering what his old master will do with the exposed flesh.

The master is still for a moment, thoughts raging in his head. His eyes are steely, the eyes of the Elders, and suddenly the apprentice knows what will happen. He expects pain, and the loss of his arm, but instead the master throws away his sword.

"Fool." The apprentice snarls. Weakness is pathetic, sentimental. The master still sees him as a child. Hatred bubbles in his chest. He is not a child. "Die."

His blade sings forward, embeds itself in the master's chest. At that moment, the son dies. The monster is born. The bronze dragon screams in agony, and the fallen student hears one last lesson leave his master's lips.

"_Don't forget the stars, my son."_

He snorts in anger and turns away. He is no one's son.

* * *

Years later, the apprentice, still alone, finally falls, cut down by a blade, two brothers, and love. He falls, down through the darkness, weighted by his terrible crimes. He will sink into the darkness and never return, he knows. High above, in the blackest of black, a faint prick of light glows, defiant. He sees himself in that prick, and what he was, a century ago.

He sees another, and another, all glowing brighter and brighter, igniting his lonely existence. And then he remembers his last lesson.

_Don't forget the stars, my son. _

Thousands and thousands of stars glow brightly, fire in the darkness, warmth in the cold. The apprentice feels his crimes lifted away, forgiven, and then he is standing in a field.

"My son." The master is there, sanding, a smile on his face. "You are forgiven." And he holds his arms out wide.

And finally, after years and years of pain and sorrow, the son goes to his father under the stars.

* * *

**Tada!!! All done!! What do you think? I like it, but I am rather biased.... ;p. Woot!! This was fun!! And depressing, but fun!! **

**Wildskysong, what do you think? Is it good enough for you to do another rec? **

**Review!!**


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